Coffee, Smack...Same Thing

I was reading something in GQ Magazine the other day that made me laugh out loud, almost spraying my Grande Iced Coffee all over myself. They often write these open letters expressing the ridiculousness of something in a sarcastic fashion. This letter was written to Starbucks from GQ and expressed how the general public feels about what the caffeine dealer has become. It was perfect.

I’ll admit that I’m a Starbucks tottin’ regular myself, but I can’t be bothered with anything fancier than an iced coffee. I'm even sitting at Starbucks right now, but I’m no faithful patron. If there were any local coffee shops with independent flair in my city, I’d frequent them. Don't feel sorry for me; I'm not going to be sitting here long.

I like this letter because it points out a few things that I agree with completely. For one, SB is largely included in what seemed to be a Seattle trend that started in the early 90s -- a list of cool alternative companies that quickly sell out and turn into corporate money-hungry whores. Even the Seattle’s grunge music scene sold out to major labels.

America cracks me up; we have this tendency to become obsessed with something, make that something a cultural trend, then turn around and make fun of ourselves for liking it so much. More than half of the people who complain about what Starbucks has become, still go there. We’re a caffeine nation alright...or as the article reads, “perpetually jacked up on gallons of magma-hot-fuck-yeah juice.”

My favorite line of the letter-- “If coffee were smack, we’d be Pete Doherty (Libertines singer who got Kate Moss into trouble with the white powder) and we’d refuse to give it up, even if it cost us our career and our supermodel girlfriend.”

I think it's hysterical that I can buy coffee that tastes like it was "roasted under the space shuttle" along with the latest indie albums. Funnier still, I can walk into the 24-hour SB around the corner from my house and see the very same people every time I go in there. Do they even have a home of their own?

I actually heard someone say that they have a list of Starbucks that they've visited all over the world. Honestly? I remember when people used to say, "I went to the Hard Rock Cafe in London!" To which my reply would be, "Let me guess, it was just like the one in New York!"

In the same issue of GQ, I found another writer offering up his love for Starbucks by listing it as number 12 in their list of “62 Reasons to Love Your Country” article. I love the non-conformity of this publication. If you happen to come across a copy of the June issue of GQ Magazine, check it out.

It’s funny because it’s true.

Haymarket Café

I do believe the time is approaching where I gotta find someplace new to live. I gotta find some place that is satisfying, interesting…culturally diverse for Christ sakes. I was proclaiming this the other day when my friend said to me, “Is that YOU talking, or is that your EGO?” To this I said, “Put down that Eckhart Tolle book and give me a break!”

I don’t live in a shabby place either. I live on the bay, surrounded by water and lots of tan boys that workout making for wonderful eye candy. The people here are pretty cool as well – real. If you ask any re-locator how they like it here, you’ll get the most enthusiastic answer imaginable. “Hell yeah, it’s like being on permanent vacation! Whoo!” Yes, sometimes they do sound that excited. For those folks that grew up around here, the answer is a little different. It’s simply “Nope!” Or at least that's most of the natives I've encountered. But seriously, it's not so bad. It’s just one of those cities that’s taking their sweet ass time catching on to cultural trends. Even with the new found patience that I encompass, I can't help but want more.

As I currently sit in a local coffee shop (okay, Starbucks because we only have one cool coffee shop and it’s across town and I don’t feel like fighting with traffic) working on my next art party, I’m reminded of this awesome coffee shop I use to frequent in New England called Haymarket Café. It was hidden because all the best ones are and full of artsy fartsy people like myself.



My routine went like this: First stop; visit the record shop and purchase new tunes. Second stop; visit the art or bookstore depending on the mood of the day. Then I hit Haymarket for a few hours of hanging out with hipsters that didn’t act like hipsters. It had this “check your attitude at the door please” mentality. I made friends every time I went into that place, which is weird for New Englanders because most of them like to keep you at arm's length for several months before they let you in.

This arms-length business was frustrating to me at first; it didn’t mesh well with my personality. I’m one of those people who get annoyingly excited about making new friends to the point of freaking folks out. These northerners didn’t know what hit them. “Whoa, back off girl…you’re stepping into my personal space, which consists of a 1 yard radius of my body.” I caught on though, played their little game and eventually I grew on them.

The folks that hung out at Haymarket were the exception to that for the most part, welcomed it even. Going there became a routine for me during the 2-year stint that I lived there. And the coffee…good God! It was better than Dunkin’ Donuts, which is pretty damn good. Some days I would walk right up to the good lookin' barista guy with the black rimmed glasses and say, “I’d like a spanking please!” That's the name of their best smoothie! Haymarket Cafe is definitely one of the many reasons why I consider New England a place worth moving back to.

Instead, I’m sitting at the Starbucks around the corner from my place and witnessing far too many men in plaid pants.